


have yourself a (caffeinated) little christmas

by missakwatson



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Human, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Enemies to Friends, Fluff, M/M, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-19 18:00:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17006469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missakwatson/pseuds/missakwatson
Summary: Stiles Stilinski was never Derek's favorite person in high school. So why does the universe - and a recurring paper products shortage - keep pushing them together?***Total fluff, written just for caffeine-in-an-iv as part of the Sterek Secret Santa 2018 gift exchange!





	have yourself a (caffeinated) little christmas

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY HOLIDAYS! I hope you enjoy!!! This is literally just total Christmas break/coffeeshop/one-sided enemies to friends/reconnecting fluff.

It started with the lids.

“Hey! Derek!” Laura’s voice rang out from the kitchen, followed by the aggressive rustle of cardboard boxes scraping against the wire storage racks.

“Yeah?” he called back, eyes still trained on the stack of receipts in front of him. The lunch rush had just cleared out, and he was determined to get everything back in order before the wave of afternoon snackers began.

“Are we out of to-go lids? The 12-ounce ones?”

Derek frowned, thinking for a moment. Before he had a chance to even consider answering, Laura finished her own thought.

“Yeah. Okay. We’re definitely out of lids.”

_Shit_. They usually worked through those relatively slowly, but if there was one thing the next onslaught of customers would want, it was coffee, especially now that the temperature was finally beginning to drop.

Laura sighed and scrubbed a hand over her face. “Can you run across the street and ask if they have a sleeve they could spare?”

Derek’s stomach flipped. “No,” he answered automatically, leveling a glare at his sister. He knew he had made a mistake as soon as their eyes met. Derek didn’t know why he ever tried to out-intimidate her; he forgot that what might work on Isaac or Erica still wouldn’t fly with Laura. Her eyes narrowed, and Derek immediately felt himself shrink back. “Please?” he added weakly.

Laura sighed and rolled her eyes. “I don’t know _what_ your damage is, Derek.” She paused for a moment before narrowing her glare in a downright terrifying big-sister way. 

“Actually, I take it back. I know _exactly_ what your damage is, and his name is—”

“—Fine! Fine. I’ll go,” Derek grumbled, if for no other reason than to get Laura to _stop talking_.

“He’s single, by the way,” Laura added with a smirk, sashaying back into the kitchen. How did Laura even know that? Did she and Stiles _talk_? Did they talk about _Derek_? And _why_ , for any reason, did she think Derek would care about that completely unsolicited piece of information?

“Ooh!” piped in Erica, suddenly intrigued from her silverware-rolling station. “What’s his name? Is he an ex? A Tinder fling?” She caught Derek’s eye with a smirk. If only she knew.

Never one to be fazed by sibling drama, Erica merely stuck out her tongue in response to Derek’s answering glare, which felt like it was etched between his eyebrows at that point. 

Laura laughed, returning to her methodical cupcake icing. “Nah. Just this guy used to know.”

Derek huffed and shrugged on his coat before pushing the back door open. _Of course_ Laura knew just how much Stiles Stilinski made Derek’s blood boil. If she hadn’t, she could have easily sent Isaac across the street to Julia’s, the coffee shop where Stiles worked. _Maybe he’s not working today,_ Derek tried to reason with himself, shuffling through the alley. _But you always see his car on the parking lot on Fridays_ , which, okay— _Since when do I pay attention to Stilinski’s car? Or his schedule?_ Derek rolled his shoulders as if he could physically shake off his annoyance.

If he was being honest with himself, he already knew the answer: since April of Derek’s senior year of high school, when Stiles finally turned 16 and started driving his rattly old sky-blue death trap of a Jeep to school. It always seemed to fling itself haphazardly into the parking lot moments before the warning bell rang. Laura thought it was hilarious. Derek just thought it was annoying.

He didn’t remember exactly when he decided that he and Stiles weren’t friends, but at some point, he started attributing it to the time Stiles – _a_ sophomore, _Laura! –_ beat him out for captain of the varsity academic decathlon team. Not that he would ever admit that to anyone, of course. _Especially_ not Erica.

Derek had begrudgingly admired a lot of things about Stiles, like his weirdly uncanny prowess at trivia, or the way he had casually-yet-courageously came out as bisexual in high school, years before Derek himself did. They just… weren’t friends.  It had nothing to do with the oddly endearing way Stiles flailed through life, possessing a kind of chaotic grace that Derek was always bitter he couldn’t master. It _definitely_ didn’t have to do with his obnoxious laugh and his ridiculous Bambi eyes or his passionate, all-consuming obsession with Lydia Martin. _Definitely_ not the Lydia thing.

As Derek rounded the corner, the sign outside Julia’s stared back at him. That was yet another blow to his ego, courtesy of the universe – during his breaks from college, Stiles worked at the one coffee shop in Beacon Hills that sat directly across the street from the bakery and café Derek’s family owned. Every holiday season for the past three years or so was just a reminder that no matter how hard Derek tried to extricate himself from his teenage self, Stiles was still so close.

He squared his shoulders, sighed in irritation at his sister one final time, and pushed open the door to Julia’s. It was fine. He would be perfectly cordial to Stiles, would definitely _not_ think about his annoyingly adorable smile, and that would be that. He was just here for the lids.

“Be right with you,” someone called from the back as the door jangled. As Derek had predicted, it was Stiles’ voice that greeted him. He walked silently to the counter, jamming his hands in his pockets and letting his gaze roam the shop.

Julia’s was a little smaller than Harvest Moon, the Hale family’s restaurant, but it was cozy. Overstuffed couches lined the walls, and a fireplace crackled pleasantly in the corner. Soft, jazzy Christmas music wafted through the air, along with the robust, earthy scent of ground coffee beans. It was the exact kind of place Derek would sit down with a heavy new hardback novel, but he rarely set foot in the place.

“Alright, what can I— Oh, um, hey!” Stiles said as he emerged from the back, absently wiping his hands down the front of his apron and breaking Derek out of his reverie. He looked genuinely surprised to see Derek, which he supposed was fair – they rarely encountered one another anymore, had hardly spoken in years. “What can I do for you, Derek?”

“Laura sent me over,” Derek answered, noting the almost imperceptible way Stiles’ face shifted at his words. “We ran out of to-go coffee lids, and she was wondering if you had any extras we could use.” He waited a beat. _Be polite, Derek, God,_ he heard his sister’s voice scold in his head. “And. Um. We can order you some more. On our next truck.”

Stiles smiled his mysterious half-smirk, the one that always drove Derek nuts during their verbal sparring matches in high school. “Yeah, yeah. No problem. Let me check,” he said, disappearing behind the counter. 

Derek heard boxes shifting, a soft thump, and a muffled curse in rapid succession. “Are… you okay?” he asked, hesitant.

“Yeah! Yeah, totally good,” Stiles answered before letting out a triumphant “a-ha!”

He reemerged, offering a plastic sleeve of lids to Derek. “Will this work?”

Derek nodded and reached across the counter, valiantly ignoring the way their hands _absolutely did not brush._ He cleared his throat, painfully aware of how awkward he looked. _I’m not making this awkward,_ he insisted to himself. _We just don’t have anything in common anymore_. 

Stiles cracked a smile. “This doesn’t mean you’re threatening our coffee monopoly, does it?”

Derek huffed out a laugh in spite of himself. “Definitely not. We go through these so slowly that we always forget to reorder this stuff.” Coffee was decidedly not the Hale siblings’ forte. His few attempts at using their espresso machine had failed miserably, and Derek decided for their customers’ sake to leave the occasional to-go coffee order to Isaac instead. He knew Erica preferred Julia’s coffee to Harvest Moon’s, and while he made sure to glare at her every time she waltzed in five minutes late with a to-go cup from across the street, he didn’t necessarily blame her. 

“Let me make you something,” Stiles offered, and Derek looked up at him in surprise.

“Oh, um, it’s fine, I—” he stammered.

“You sure?” Stiles cocked an eyebrow, and Derek hated how _good_ he looked staring back at him.

_Just being polite,_ he reminded himself with a small smile.

“Actually, yeah. I could use some caffeine,” he said.

“Great. You seem like a peppermint mocha guy,” Stiles guessed.

He wasn’t wrong. 

They chatted idly as Stiles pulled the shots for Derek’s drink, the conversation flowing so easily that he almost forgot how resistant he’d been to come in the first place. He remembered how exasperated he always felt with Stiles in high school, the other boy’s acerbic wit and self-satisfied intelligence prodding at Derek’s patience and goading his own sharp edges. But now, it was just… easier. Derek knew college had smoothed over some of those edges, and he supposed it was the same for Stiles. 

As Derek left, he offered Stiles a small wave. And if he couldn’t help but smile into his whipped cream as Erica teased him for bringing back a to-go cup from Julia’s, well, that was his business.

*** 

On Monday, it was napkins.

It was relatively quiet in Harvest Moon, a mid-morning lull that Derek was using to carefully rearrange the display case. Laura always made fun of his meticulous process, but Derek found it oddly calming to make sure all the racks, placards, and pastries were seated precisely. He quickly became engrossed in laying out a tray of sugar cookies shaped like little snowmen, and it took him a moment to register the clang of the door. When he looked up, he was surprised to see Stiles peering down at him.

Derek straightened, registering the harried expression on Stiles’ face and the dark stain blooming across the front of his apron.

“Um, hey?” Derek said, voice turning up into an unspoken question at Stiles’ disheveled state.

Stiles just sighed.

“Hey, so, remember those lids?”

“Yes?” Derek replied slowly, unsure of where Stiles was going with his question.

“I know this is a huge, huge favor, but I, uh… There was an incident,” Stiles said. “A cold brew incident. Which turned into an ‘I used all the napkins by the register before I realized we didn’t have any more packages of napkins in the back and I should have used paper towels but I didn’t and now I really need napkins before all the under-caffeinated soccer moms kill me’ incident,” he finished in a rush.

Derek bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from openly laughing. “Yes,” he said, and Stiles’ shoulders slumped in relief. “You can have some napkins.” 

When Derek returned from the storage room, Stiles was, for lack of a better word, _draped_ over the pastry case, his head resting on his arms. He almost looked like he was taking a nap, and Derek was struck with a stray twinge of sympathy. While he was hardly a frequent patron at Julia’s, he knew they did good business, especially in the morning.

Before he could think twice, he set the napkins down on the counter and pulled on a pair of gloves. 

“Have you had lunch yet?” he asked. Stiles looked up with a jolt.

“Shit! You scared me. I mean— I was definitely _not_ asleep on your pastry case,” Stiles said, rubbing a hand over his face. “And no, dude, I’m starving but I haven’t had a chance to sneak into the back yet.”

“Turkey or ham?” Derek asked.

Stiles frowned, visibly confused as Derek reached for a fresh loaf of bread and started slicing off two pieces. “Oh man, I appreciate it, but I left my wallet behind the register—”

He trailed off as Derek waved his hand dismissively. “You gave me coffee. We’re even,” he said gruffly. “Turkey or ham?”

Stiles’ shoulders slumped again.

“Turkey. Man, you’re the _best._ ”

***

On Wednesday, it was the lids again – or at least, that was Derek’s excuse. 

He waited until the traffic died down and Laura was busy before he slipped out, asking Isaac to keep an eye on the register for him. When he arrived at Julia’s, it was busier than it had been on Friday, but Derek patiently shuffled into the line with the rest of the customers. When he reached the register, Stiles looked like he was on autopilot, but his face lit up when he saw Derek. Ignoring the way his stomach flipped at the sight of Stiles’ smile, Derek greeted Stiles with a small wave and held up a sleeve of lids with his other hand.

“The truck came today, so here are the lids I owe you,” he said. Stiles’ expression flattened a bit, but he accepted the bag from Derek.

“But, um, I also wanted to ask…” Derek continued, acutely aware of the way his heart was pounding in his chest. “Um. If you wanted to, you know, catch up sometime. Maybe get coffee or… or drinks, or something,” he finished. For a moment, Stiles just stared at him, mouth slack in surprise. 

“Not here,” Stiles blurted after a beat. Derek immediately froze, regretting whatever hare-brained burst of courage had led him to ask Stiles at all. _You can’t just ask people out at work, oh my God, what were you thinking—_  

“I mean! Yes! Yes, God, of course, holy shit, but um—We can’t get coffee here. We have to go somewhere where neither of us work, and catch up, and… whatever you want,” Stiles said resolutely, the last words soft and thrillingly hopeful.

Derek exhaled with relief. “Okay. Great,” he said, aware of the smile spreading across his face that he couldn’t even attempt to stop. Stiles’ expression matched his, and for a moment, Derek lost himself in his ridiculous Bambi eyes until a quiet voice from behind jolted him back to reality.

“Um,” said the customer behind him, a petite woman with jet black hair and a nervous smile. “You should get each other’s’ numbers,” she offered, gesturing at Derek and Stiles.

Stiles threw his head back and laughed while Derek immediately flushed and apologized, aware that his decision to bite the bullet and ask Stiles out was now definitely holding up the line. Stiles wrote his number on Derek’s cup sleeve with a flourish, waving off his attempt to pay just like Derek had a few days earlier.

“You can get my coffee next time,” he said with a wink, causing Derek to flush again.

_Next time_. A fresh start, and maybe even a new romance, just in time for a new year. Derek liked the sound of that.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!!! <3


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